A Romantic Gesture in Disguise
by DwightK.Schrute
Summary: In which Will throws off Hannibal's advances, and Hannibal doesn't know what to do because he's foreign to love and so used to eating his problems. Spoilers within, folks. Also, rating may change so beware. SLASH, Hannigram.
1. The Mark of the Beast

**A/N: **This fic was originally posted (by me) on AO3 as an AU, but I didn't like how it was progressing (nowhere), so I rehashed it to fit a prompt I made that was not being filled: _In which Hannibal kidnaps Will because he realizes he's in love with him, but he doesn't know what to do because he's so used to eating his problems._ It's a bit dub-con to start off, just because Will is unaccepting of his feelings, but I think it will be more romantic once it progresses because otherwise the ending will need to be rather dark and I think the season finale will be dark enough to scar us all.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, the NBC TV series, or any of its characters. **

**Note: This will be slash, so if you are not comfortable with that I would suggest something else for you, dearies.**

The longer Hannibal watched his prey elude him, the more invested he became. It was more of an obsession now, one Hannibal could not pry himself away from.

Perhaps another difference lied within the fact that Hannibal could not see himself feasting on Will like he had his other romantic interests. No, Hannibal wanted something else entirely from Will, and that thought scared him. Well, not _scared_- Hannibal did not allow himself to become entrapped by such a pointless emotion- but it certainly unhinged him. It couldn't be a serious relationship he wanted; such a notion had always been a foreign one to him.

But now a yearning settled heavy over his chest, and the more he waited, the more painful it got. Maybe a romantic gesture was necessary.

One rainy Monday evening, Will came in to meet with the psychiatrist much earlier than usual. When Hannibal politely asked the reason, Will replied that he had not been himself all day, that he just needed someone to talk to about it. It was a particularly difficult "therapy" session for Will. Hannibal had stepped forward, intending to reach around Will for a tissue to hand him, but Will had misunderstood the action and had embraced Hannibal, burying his face in the shoulder of the psychiatrist's suit. As an action from any of his other patients, Hannibal would have sent them away with some lame excuse and then would have either handed them off to another psychiatrist or kill them, depending on how deeply he disliked them.

But with Will, Hannibal found himself awkwardly placing his arms around the other man, and allowed one of his hands to tangle through Will's thick, dark, curly locks while the other firmly grasped him around the waist. Now that Will was no longer ill, and had done away with the aftershave, Hannibal was able to appreciate the consultant's natural, musky scent. Needless to say, it was arousing.

They stood that way for several minutes, until the tenseness oozed out of Will's body and he allowed himself to lean on the doctor. Finally, he pulled away, wiping his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand.

"My... apologies, Dr. Lecter," Will mumbled, watching their shoes with the utmost fascination. "That was very forward of me. It will not happen again."

Hannibal was a meticulous planner- nearly nothing happened without some sort forethought. In this case, Hannibal did the exact opposite. He watched Will's full, delectably pink lips but did not process the words that they spilled when they moved. He licked his own lips, imagining the taste and the feel of them against his, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and bite him and do anything within his control to make such a delicate, pale creature his own.

So this is exactly what he did. Without any warning, Hannibal grabbed Will by his upper arms and guided him further backwards, causing him to fall atop Hannibal's desk, where he sprawled ungracefully. Then he was up on his elbows, trying to clamber away. Hannibal pushed an assortment of items off the desk so he could crawl on top as well, placing his hands on either side of Will's head and bringing one knee up so it was wedged between Will's thighs.

Will was trapped, like a scared little rabbit ensnared between the jaws of a beast. Whether it was because he was stunned, or fearful, or perhaps partially welcome to such advancements, Will did not try to flee.

Hannibal leaned down until his lips grazed across Will's, until long dark lashes closed over elusive eyes. He tasted Will in a way he never allowed himself to taste anyone, because despite the killing and the cannibalism, he was not a man that embraced such carnal urges. But kissing Will now, with tongue sliding against tongue eagerly and frantically, Hannibal was lost to the desires that clearly only Will could satisfy.

Breaking the contact, Hannibal gazed down at Will's flushed face, his expectant lips, his fluttering eyelids. He bent his face lower and pressed his face into Will's neck, felt the skin grow hot against his own. He bit down, earning himself a deep, throaty moan, and then started sucking, biting, and licking, until he was sure that Will's neck would be littered with marks.

Hannibal pulled away, climbing down from the desk to stand back and survey his handiwork. Will was lying across the wrecked workspace, looking like a dazed, hot mess. His lips were like plump, ripe berries; his neck was already starting to bruise; and between his legs, where Hannibal's knee had been rubbing but a moment earlier, was lewdly displayed an erection straining against wonderfully tight jeans.

Just before Will could come to his senses, Hannibal leaned over once more, kissed along Will's scruffy jaw and slid his hands up underneath the smaller man's plaid shirt and jacket to run his hands along oft-seen skin. However, the body recoiled from beneath Hannibal's eager fingertips, and Will suddenly shoved him off and slid down from the desk, rearranging his clothes and trying to hide the obvious signs of arousal by angling his body away.

"I-I have to go now, Doctor Lecter," Will stumbled out, eyes flickering sporadically around the room at anything but the man that had just ravished him. "I don't- I can't."

Will stepped carefully around Hannibal and then strode from the room. Even though he was the first to leave, this was not a battle he had won. Hannibal watched as Will tugged at the collar of his jacket, trying to cover the hickeys on his skin that would fade with time, but would remain seared in his memory.

Hannibal was feeling truly confident about their encounter now. But soon, he would be rethinking his actions, mulling them over in his head with more than just erotic fascination.


	2. The Venom of the Fiend

**A/N: **Thought I would post this chapter kind of early since it's a bit short. There will most likely be another one out late tonight.

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own the NBC TV series Hannibal or any of its characters.**

The next few days were rough for Hannibal.

He did not see Will at all. Apparently the man had decided to call in sick, rather than for his colleagues to see the marks on his neck. Jack did not ask many questions, either, given Will's recent mental state. He no doubt just assumed that the man was taking a much needed vacation at home.

However, it was not just the absence of Will from work that bothered Hannibal. The psychiatrist had not seen Will at his appointments, which made it obvious that Will was avoiding him. Even if Will was staying home to dodge being asked about the hickeys, he would still come to his appointments to keep Jack off his back.

Not coming to his sessions was an obvious effort to try to either give both of them time to forget about the events of the other night (something that was _not _going to happen), or an effort to let Hannibal know that he was not interested.

Neither of which were acceptable, in Hannibal's eyes. Some much needed quality time was necessary.

Stalking was not new to Hannibal, obviously. He knew to keep a proper distance, to duck into alleys and side streets when the stalkee tensed up or looked like they were about to turn around. He knew that appearing harmless was everything, and that other people around easily determined what was stalking behavior. So Hannibal kept his hands in his pockets, tried to appear as aloof as possible, as if just another man going on about his errands.

Hannibal knew Will's schedule well enough that today was grocery day. He had at first intended to "accidentally" bump into Will at the supermarket, but then his skills in sneaking and his lack of recent activity in the killing field led him to take up the chase. Will stopped at a coffee shop before heading into the grocery store, giving Hannibal a rather contemptible idea that he could not shake off.

Hannibal waited until Will step his cup down, in the seat of his cart at the store, to examine the produce. With swiftness and nonchalance, Hannibal passed by like just another customer, and switched his own cup out for Will's. It was not a difficult thing to do, given how preoccupied Will had been lately with his thoughts.

The psychiatrist bought a few things, but not many because he wanted to be able to run them outside before Will started to leave the store. Hannibal watched from his own car as Will chucked his now empty coffee cup out upon leaving the entrance, without any groceries, clearly starting to feel too ill to manage any. Hannibal slid out of his own front seat, darting over to where Will's car was parked to wait for him.

Outside, Will started to slow down. Quite a bit, actually. He could hardly walk in a straight line, and often stopped to lean against cars in the parking lot for support. The people walking by eyed him with curiosity, concern or distaste, but all must have figured he was just drunk because none stopped to actually help him.

Finally, Will slumped against his own car, his knees went weak, and Hannibal was there in the shadows to catch him under the arms and drag him into the space between two vehicles, crouching down over Will to make them virtually unnoticeable in the nearly full parking lot.

Hannibal was able to get incredibly close to Will, and the session they had had the other day clawed its way to the front of Hannibal's memory. He was able to smell Will, deep, tantalizing whiffs of his musky scent, and felt the body heat radiating off of him.

A person stopped, asked if Will was okay, but Hannibal simply replied that the man had just been drinking too much, the whiskey was strong on his breath, and he would make sure Will got home okay. The woman offered to help, but Hannibal told her not to bother herself- he would be just fine. The woman pressed on, uncertainly, but clearly urgent to get home.

Hannibal looked down at the heavily dosed man, sleeping soundly half-sprawled across the his lap. He took a moment to thread his fingers through thick dark curls, to drink in every inch of the man's perfect, softly-featured face. He took off Will's glasses, tucked them safely away in his own shirt pocket, and enjoyed the dark curve of thick lashes against cheeks splashed a lovely pink from exertion in his last conscious moments.

Clearing his throat, Hannibal laid Will's head gently down on the asphalt and then stood up to peer back out of their spot to make sure no one else was between them and Hannibal's car, parked right across the lane. Then he delicately lifted Will up, slung the smaller man over his shoulder, and then stepped back out onto the street.

He hurried towards his car, knowing that jostling Will too much would not wake him up- after all, the sedative Hannibal had sneaked into his coffee was quite strong.


	3. The Sleep of the Feast

**A/N: **Probably could have been combined with the last chapter but ahhhh well, too late for that nonsense. Hope you enjoy :)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, the NBC TV series, or any of its characters.**

Will awoke groggily, in a large, luxurious bed that he knew was not his own. The large wooden posts at the head and foot of the bed towered over him, even as he was laying on the mattress, and the sheets, made of Egyptian cotton, were like a red sea lapping at his skin.

It was rather dark in the room, with only dim lamps lit in the corners to provide him viewing of where he was. The bedroom was lightly furbished, but ornately decorated, and there seemed to be a preference for the color red- a deep, lush, and yet cruel red.

Despite how horrible Will felt, he still tried to sit up, to get out of bed and escape this madness. But his limbs felt like lead, and his head flopped unceremoniously back against his pillow as an intense dizziness washed over him. It did not take an expert to tell him that he had been drugged, although he had no idea when it could have happened. Could it have been at the coffee shop? And where was he now?

Will heard someone humming in the hallway, and footsteps approaching. He froze up, and debated whether or not he should pretend to be asleep. The drugs that he realized too late had been slipped into his coffee were still taking a toll on his system, making him feel limp and useless. He would not be able to fight back, should the person who had abducted him tried to do something to him.

With his heart hammering loudly against his ear drums, Will re-situated his head on his pillow the best he could and tried to pull the blankets back up on his body. He blushed heavily at coming upon the realization that he was completely naked underneath the sheets.

The door across the room opened. Will waited with bated breath, urging himself not to fall back asleep despite the drugs still pulling at his consciousness. He had to stay awake, to know about everything that would happen to him.

He heard footsteps across the heavy floorboards, coming directly up to the bed until the person was all but touching it. There was the sound of a deep inhalation, and then, and dark chuckle.

"I am glad to see you are awake, Will," the familiar voice said, a rumble in Will's ear that gave him gooseflesh. "You know, there is no hiding from me anymore."

The psychiatrist pressed his face even closer, until his lips brushed close to Will's, so close that the other man could not help jerking his face away.

"I hope you realize why I have done this. I rather appreciate you." Hannibal dipped down, trailed his tongue along Will's throat.

Will tried to suppress the shiver, but it still wracked his drug-ridden body.

"I will let you sleep for now," Hannibal said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Will felt himself relax, the tiniest bit, as he heard Hannibal's footsteps recede. But they did not follow the same path out. Instead, they trailed around the edge of the bed, to the other side. The prone man felt the mattress dip as Hannibal sat down, and reclined atop the dark red comforter, just out of Will's reach.

Will held on as long as he could. But finally, the drugs still filling his bloodstream pulled him back into the warm, sweet darkness, and all he heard as he slipped away again was Hannibal humming.


	4. The Trapper of the Sweet

**A/N:** Sorry to keep you all waiting! Had to work Thursday, then the season finale dag near killed me. But here is the fourth chapter. The next one should be ready by tomorrow! And thank you all for your lovely reviews, they mean so much to me!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, the NBC series, or any of its characters.**

The scent of freshly brewed coffee washed over Will, pulling him out of his empty sleep and bringing a smile to his lips. It was not just any coffee; it was his favorite brew, from Cafe Cordero, which he visited every day.

As he creeped further out of his slumber, he brain started to piece together the events of yesterday- had it even been yesterday? How long had he been asleep?- and he was ripped from his dreams by the sudden realization that he had fallen asleep next to a person who had drugged and kidnapped him.

Will sat bolt upright in bed as a shot of adrenaline surged through him. He looked around the room in a panic, expecting Hannibal to be lurking, waiting for him to wake up.

Once he realized he was alone, in the room at least, Will calmed down enough to think. He put all of his anxieties towards analyzing his situation.

Mid-morning daylight filtered in through the windows where the maroon curtains had been pulled back. Having light gave him little advantage, since it gave him no further insight into his surroundings; the room was still basically empty, save for the large four-poster bed, a desk and chair in the corner, a heavy oak dresser, and two doors. The red walls seemed close around him, and he feared at any moment that they would start dripping.

Will brought himself back to focus. The first step was to find his clothes. Really, any clothes would do, as long as he was not wandering out into broad daylight stark naked was he got out of here.

The dresser was empty, Will found upon pulling out the drawers. So was the desk. This did not appear to be Hannibal's bedroom; it had to be a guest bedroom- if this was even Hannibal's house to begin with. On further thought, Will shuddered at the possibility that this room had been specially prepared for him.

Will knew where the exit was, but he was not ready to face Hannibal yet, should the other man still be in the house. So he inspected the other door, and found it led into a large, seashell white bathroom. He looked for anything that could be used as a weapon, but found the bathroom to be quite empty as well. The only things in the shower were soap and shampoo; a dark green towel hung from the wall rack; and a toothbrush and toothpaste lay by the sink. At the very least, Hannibal was accommodating.

Wanting a door between him and Hannibal should the other man come to check on him, Will crept as quietly as he could into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He went to lock it, but found that the lock had been removed. However, he did find a light blue, silk bath robe hanging from a steel hook on the back of the door. He ripped it down, eager for a modicum of modesty, and wrapped it around himself.

Will felt soothed by the soft lighting of the bathroom. He slumped against the door, feeling drained as the last vestiges of the drug lingered in his system.

It would help to have food; now that he was aware of it, his stomach felt like it was cannibalizing itself. He had to have his strength, but it seemed Hannibal was bent on keeping him weak.

Suddenly, Will heard the other door to his room open. Hannibal seemed to pause in the doorway, obviously noticing that Will was no longer in bed.

Footsteps trailed into the room; Will heard something being set down, and then the carefully calculated steps came right over to the bathroom door. Will felt his heart hammering away in his chest, so vehemently that he feared Hannibal would be able to hear it. He put his hand on the doorknob, just in case he had to hold the door shut. He knew it would be a futile attempt in his current state, but he would go out fighting.

Will nearly jumped out of his skin as a knocking sounded against the door, right next to his head. He seized up, unable to say or do anything at the thought of the man standing on the other side of the heavy piece of wood between them.

"Will," a painfully familiar voice said, the thick, rich accent muffled by the door. Just the sound of his name sent Will's heart up into his throat.

There was a long silence as Will kept fearfully silent, quivering with anticipation. It felt like Hannibal was breathing down the back of his neck, like his eyes were piercing through the wood and roaming all over Will's body. It made him feel things he should not be feeling about a man who had abducted him.

A chuckle seemed to vibrate through the door, as if Hannibal were leaning along it to get even closer to Will. It made Will lunge away, with legs that could barely hold him up, causing him to sprawl violently against the unforgiving tile.

Another beat of silence later, and then Hannibal was leaving the room in as leisurely a pace as he had arrived. The door closed behind him with a solid click. Will was left cowering in the spacious bathroom, wanting nothing more than to pass out again and be unaware of the goings on of Hannibal Lecter.

It took what seemed like ages for Will to regain his composure. He finally stood up, ignoring the painful throb in the parts of his body he had fallen heavily on, and braved venturing out into the room.

Will was greeted with rose petals. Ruby red rose petals were scattered all over the room, mostly concentrated on the bed. He could smell them lightly sweetening the air, although the smell did little to assuage his nerves.

It was such a romantic gesture, that if the circumstances had been different, Will would have been thoroughly wooed. But he was trying to focus on hating the man who had been his friend and then tried to seduce him, had drugged him, and kidnapped him out of obsession. What had Will gotten himself into? Was this why something about Hannibal had always felt a little off? Because there was a psychopath lingering inside?

Another scent broke through the flowery aroma permeating the air. Will's eyes glanced wildly about until they fell upon the tray of breakfast that had been left on the desk across the room.

Will nearly stumbled over his feet again to get to it. His stomach growled at the promise of food, and Will did not hesitate to throw himself into the chair or in shoveling the hearty breakfast down his throat. He barely tasted the gourmet style of the egg omelette he was eating, or the peculiar taste to the sausage links or the bacon. All he knew was that they were giving him the strength he so desired.

Once he was done gorging himself, Will's nose was caressed with the scent of coffee again. He noticed the white mug sitting innocently by the tray, still steaming with its fresh contents. Will picked it up gingerly and cradled it in his hands, bringing it close to his face so he could breathe in the familiar scent of the coffee he desired every day.

It occurred to him that Hannibal could be trying to drug him a second time. But that would be too obvious. Besides, Hannibal already had him holed up in a room like a scared little rabbit afraid to come out of its burrow. Why would he sedate Will now?

Will chanced a sip of the coffee. It tasted as heavenly as it always did. But then, he had not been able to notice anything off about it the first time around, until he was beginning to pass out in the parking lot.

Nevertheless, Will downed the coffee, too thirsty to protest. And the caffeine might help to slightly battle the effects of the drugs, he argued.

Standing up, Will walked quietly over to the singular window in the room to get a look outside. Perhaps he would be able to tell where he was, and if he ever got a hold of a phone, he could call someone and tell them where to locate him.

He was in the front part of the second story of the house. It was the same house that Will had been to frequently, in order to visit Hannibal. He was comforted by the fact that he now knew a bit of its layout.

All of a sudden, a figure appeared on the sidewalk below him, as if it had just exited the front door. The person turned around and glanced directly up at Will's window.

It was Hannibal. He smiled lasciviously as his eyes met Will's, and he raised a hand in farewell as he headed to the car parked in the driveway.

Will ducked away from the window. His adrenaline was pumping once more.

Hannibal was leaving, most likely to go to work- it was a Tuesday, or a Wednesday maybe, and his patients would surely be waiting by now. So Hannibal knew that Will knew that he was leaving, and would be gone for the better part of the day. How was he so comfortable leaving his abductee here alone, unsupervised?

Will strode open to the door to the room and attempted to open it. It was unlocked.

With the utmost caution and silence, Will crept out into the hallway. He listened, barely breathing, trying to hear anyone else that may at that present moment be in the house. All was deathly silent.

There was nothing between him and the door but air. He could leave now.

Will tried to take another step towards the stairs, but his legs did not feel right; they felt separate from his body. A dizziness overtook him, causing him to reel back from the stairway. He had been drugged again. It had to have been the damned coffee, because Hannibal would never alter the food.

The reason for doing so was because he could not be here to watch Will, and he had to be at work to keep up appearances. Will's coworkers would not be looking for him for a few more days, because Will was on leave, and he had not tried to contact any of them in the meantime. Did that mean Hannibal intended to keep him here indefinitely?

Mentally kicking himself, Will tried to drag himself back into the room. He did not want to pass out on the floor like this. It would be hours before Hannibal would return, and to find him unconscious outside the room- the man would be upset. Why did he care so much if Hannibal was upset?

Will drifted off into the abyss once more, his pale face resting amidst the rose petals that were scattered about him like droplets of blood.


	5. Lovelorn Lullaby

**A/N: **Here's chapter 5! I don't know if you guys prefer the short chapters that I try to post every day, or would prefer longer chapters- let me know! I have to work tonight so I'm posting it earlier than intended. I'm not entirely sure if there will be a chapter out tomorrow, it just depends on how the day goes and if I find any spare time to write something. I don't know how many chapters there are going to be yet, but you can bet your bottom there's going to be some slash action soon.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the NBC TV series Hannibal or any of its characters.**

Hannibal could not say he was surprised to find Will collapsed half outside the room. Disappointment was but a shallow friend; all prey tried to escape at some point. Some fought until the very end, but Hannibal did not sense such a tenacity in Will. The curly-haired man had clearly tried to get back into the room on his last bits of strength, fearing the wrath that would be brought down on him for trying to outwit his captor. It would be so easy to break Will, to make him wither between Hannibal's jaws like a helpless animal giving in to demise.

Stripping off his suit jacket, Hannibal carefully hung it on the back of the desk chair in the room. He stepped back over Will's body, and gingerly turned it over, so he would be easier to pick up. Hannibal knelt down, slid his arms underneath the warm body beneath soft silk, and hoisted the man up, cradling him like a bride.

Hannibal laid Will out on the bed in the place where the sheets were already pulled back, as if welcoming Will back. There was a moment, where Hannibal had his knee up on the bed and was placing Will down, and their bodies were pressed delectably close. He hovered over Will, his hands positioned on either side of the man's dark head, his knee pressed up into his side. He could feel warmth ghost across his own face, kisses of breath from parted pink lips.

He reached one of his hands up to pick away the rose petals that had clung to Will's face. Hannibal bent down further, eyes intent on dark lashes that he knew would not lift away, and pressed ever closer until lips pressed upon lips, until there was a connection.

Hannibal easily pushed his tongue between Will's lips, tasted him fully with unhindered passion. The mouth below his was unresponsive, but the warm cavern was still satisfying. After a moment or so, he started to receive a reply, felt Will's tongue press up into his own, his neck arch, his body twitch ever-so-slightly towards him.

He knew Will was still half asleep, responding to the flushed body pressed against his with a fog covering his mind, but Hannibal did not care. He dragged his other leg up onto the bed and straddled Will, wrapped his arms around his shoulders to entrap him, to keep him still. No human flesh had ever tasted as nectarous, and Hannibal was reluctant for it to end.

Hannibal was suddenly met with delight when the warmth was suddenly pulled away, when there was a gasp and a sudden struggle. He opened his eyes to find Will attempting to squirm away, to escape the arms and the torso that entrapped him.

It was no challenge at all to overpower Will, to grab him by his cheeks and force his face back so he could look into frightened blue eyes, eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay open against the narcosis.

"I am not going to harm you," Hannibal said simply, trying to meet eyes that flitted about, unaccustomed to such intensity.

Will faltered again, drowsiness nearly reclaiming him. Hannibal took the opportunity to force his mouth again upon the other's, to take feeble wrists and pin them above Will's dark head. He craved the way their bodies were perfectly aligned, the way Will kicked at his legs indignantly and tried to angle his face away. Teeth bit viciously at the tongue that entered his mouth, but the drugs did not give Will the power to bite all the way through. Hannibal could not help the laugh that escaped him, which was met with a whimper.

Once Will went weak to his administrations, Hannibal finally stopped kissing him and buried his face in the crook of Will's blushing throat, felt the rapid pulse with his own skin, embraced the body he had been longing for since the last time they had been this close. He wanted nothing more than a moment to breathe in Will, to hold his obsession as a solid thing in his arms.

He was tired. Hannibal rolled off of Will, curled around him instead, pulled the smaller man against his chest and nestled his face into dark locks. He had never felt more at home next to another person.


	6. The Dog Days Are Here

**A/N: **The power was out for a few hours today, thank goodness. It got a bit warm, but I had time to write.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, the NBC TV series, or any of its characters.**

Will did not have as peaceful of a sleep the second (third?) time around. Hannibal's hungry gazes must have had an effect on him, because he dreamt that he awoke with the psychiatrist's mouth over his own. He dreamt that Hannibal had delivered him one of the most passionate kisses of Will's life, and would have gone further, had the dream not ended abruptly.

He started to wonder how much of all this was a dream, and what was real. Will did not wake up on the hardwood floor, like expected. And he did not wake up alone.

As Will dug himself from the depths of unconsciousness, it felt as if someone were licking his face, more specifically his eyes, as if trying to wake him up. He was deeply confused, wondering why Hannibal would be licking him, when he felt a cold, wet nose press against his face.

Will batted the furry muzzle away, and rubbed the sleep and slobber from his eyes to find not his abductor, but Winston. Not just Winston, but all of his dogs, huddled around him on the spacious bed. He had to look around, just to make sure he wasn't back at his own house- and unless an interior decorator had come in and smeared blood over every inch of the walls, then he was still at Hannibal's.

"So he must have brought you guys here, huh?" Will said aloud, addressing his dogs. They all perked up, as if in understanding of what he was saying. "Probably got tired driving back and forth to check on you all."

Although he probably had not intended it, Hannibal was making it harder for Will to leave. How was Will supposed to get his dogs back home alone, especially if he did not have a car and lived an hour away?

"I could call the police," Will muttered, laying his head back down on the pillow. "It's not like Dr. Lecter isn't doing something-many things-illegal here."

Winston had laid down next to Will's pillow and rested his head on top of his paws, as if listening intently.

A rumbling in Will's stomach brought his attention to the fact that he had only eaten one meal since getting here, and who knew how long ago that was. Throwing back the covers, Will stiffly got up out of bed. His dogs got up after him, curious to know where he was going.

When the cold air hit his skin, Will came to the realization that he was naked again. There was no robe in sight.

Will shuffled over to the bathroom and flicked on the light switch inside. There was no robe in there either, not on the back of the door like the last time. The only piece of cloth in the room was a towel.

Normally, Will would not have considered ever letting his guard down long enough to take a shower in hs captor's house. But he felt filthy, with his greasy curls flopping into his face- it had to have been days since he last bathed. Besides, the dogs would all pile up outside the door anyways, like they always did, making it impossible for anyone to get inside.

Will tread quietly back out into the room to peer out the window. A quick glance told Will that Hannibal wasn't home because his car was not parked outside. For the most part, Will was alone. The sun was not quite overhead yet, meaning it was late morning and Hannibal would not be home for hours. That gave Will plenty of time to shower, find some clothes, and devise a plan of escape. He would prefer not to call the police just yet if he did not have to- to let everyone in the FBI know that he, as a grown man, had been abducted would mean the utmost humiliation.

Or would he rather confront Hannibal? He had chickened out last time, but Hannibal had had him cornered in the room, with no means of defending himself. With Hannibal at work, there was plenty of opportunity for Will to find something in the house, even if it was just a kitchen knife.

Will went back into the bathroom and shut and locked the door behind him. The door jarred a bit as the dogs laid down against it, just as expected, a few of them whining nervously due to the unfamiliar surroundings. Will vowed to make his shower as quick as possible so he could get back to them.

He was surprised to find the same brands of soap and shampoo that he used at home. They had not been taking directly from his house, though, because they were untouched. The lengths that Hannibal was going to make him comfortable here made his stomach churn. The man had even brought his dogs to him- was that a gesture in itself?

He wished that he could say he was disgusted by Hannibal's behavior. But no one had ever been obsessed with him before. Jack was obsessed with his skills in profiling, ordered him to be on every case, said he was _needed _to save lives.

However, this was a different kind of obsession. Hannibal was mentally experimenting with him. He was psychoanalyzing Will, because Will was a unique psychological find in a stream of monotony. He was obsessed with the way Will's brain worked, wanted to know everything about it, but underneath all of that there was a burning, an aching for something more.

Will had sensed that Hannibal was different. His brain did not work normally, either, despite the facade he kept up. In sincerely felt like Hannibal did not know what he was doing here. It was nice, to not be alone in that field for once.

Will finally stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed and stronger than before. He dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist. Even though he was alone here, it felt disarming to walk around somewhere unfamiliar completely unclothed.

The dogs swarmed around his ankles as soon as he stepped out, and they seemed intent to keep doing that as he ventured outside the room. Last time, he had not gotten far at all before the drugs took over, but now he had time to roam. He followed the upstairs hallway all the way back, to the door tucked away at the end. Hannibal apparently had no qualms about Will snooping, because the door was unlocked.

It was another bedroom, not unlike the other one, but the walls were a deep, plum purple. There was even less furniture in here than in the other room, but Will supposed that a man of Hannibal's occupation would have a study or an office somewhere, and would not have much need for television, so this room was probably reserved for sleeping and other... nightly activities.

Will spotted a pair of light blue flannel pajamas laying across the bed. Would he be imposing more if he took the pajamas Hannibal had worn/planned to wear, or if he went digging through Hannibal's dresser for different ones? He decided to act upon the former, and was soon comfortably adorned in Hannibal's slightly oversized pajamas.

As his stomach grumbled again, Will was spurned towards finding the kitchen. He left the room, padded down the hall, and traversed the stairs, all with the dogs either nearly tripping him or following behind a ways as they scented the carpet.

Once he got to the kitchen, he did not really know what to do there. He was unsure about just opening the fridge, because he knew Hannibal was a gourmet cook and would be upset if any of his food went missing.

He ventured a look anyway, and found a plate covered with a glass lid inside. Attached to the lid was, undoubtedly, a note for him. It said as follows:

_Dearest Will,_

_Knowing that you would be hungry upon awakening, I prepared you a dish. Your clothes are currently at the cleaner's, but if you would prefer not to dine in the nude, you will find a pair of night clothes waiting for you in the bedroom at the end of the hall upstairs. I fed the dogs plenty this morning, they should be fine until dinner time._

_Sincerely,_

_Hannibal_

He should have known that Hannibal would think leagues ahead of him.

Will put the plate in the microwave, since Hannibal had not really left any reheating instructions and Will only knew how to prepare simple dishes. He got himself a glass of water, trusting that Hannibal had not put trace amounts of some sort of drug on every glass in the cupboard.

Once his meal was thoroughly nuked, he thought about eating in the kitchen, but the sterile environment was a bit off-putting. He did not know why he felt that he was imposing, when he was being forced to be here in the first place.

It was strange, eating at such a large table in the dining room by himself, but the dogs kept him plenty of company sitting patiently beside him, waiting to be thrown a scrap, and crowded under the table.

He was just finishing the last bites of his pork chops with raspberry sauce when a few of his dogs got up and left the room. He placed his fork down quietly, understanding that they had heard something he did not.

The dogs came back a few moments later, following the proprietor of the house.


	7. Dining Room Dalliance

**A/N: **I got this chapter written and then, of course, the internet went out. It was out several hours before I finally gave up and went to bed. So here it is now. The next chapter may be the last one, I'm not really sure. I know it contains some long-awaited slashy goodness, not to ruin the surprise but I'm fairly satisfied with how it's coming along. It might be up later tonight, but I don't know because I have to work. I would expect it very late.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the NBC TV series Hannibal, or any of its characters.**

"Hello, Will," Hannibal said, leaning against the door frame. "I am glad to see you found the food, and the clothes."

Will looked stunned, and Hannibal was glad he could create such an effect in the man he secretly admired. Well, maybe not so secretly anymore.

He took a moment to look Will over while the other man's brain was still trying to compute a response.

The pajamas Hannibal had provided fit a bit more loosely than he had intended, which was a shame, considering the attractiveness of Will's physique. However, the mere thought of Will wearing his clothes, of his skin touching the fabric that had touched Hannibal's skin and the smell of him being absorbed into the cloth got Hannibal very turned on. He knew, once he got the night clothes back, he would never wear them again; they would become more of a souvenir for him, never to be washed.

The state of Will's hair suggested that he had recently showered, as the curls were wet and fell over his scalp limply. Will apparently did not know how to dry his hair, because it was still dripping down his neck and onto the shoulders of his shirt. Hannibal would have mentioned it, but he rather liked how much more strongly Will's scent permeated the room; the effect was to Hannibal as what a wet dog would be to a normal human's nose. To Hannibal, wet dog was unbearable, but wet Will was delectable.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

Hannibal was pulled from his thoughts when Will finally opened his mouth to speak. The darker-haired man's face was red, and he looked a bit more guarded, making Hannibal wonder just how intently he had been staring at his captor.

"Why do you think I kidnapped you?" Hannibal answered patiently. "I thought it was obvious."

Will's face flushed more fully, and his eyes, which had merely not been meeting Hannibal's now darted about restlessly.

"Is it because you... Love me?" Will asked, saying the last words uncomfortably.

Hannibal blinked. He supposed, in a way, he did love Will Graham. He himself had always considered it more of a piqued interest, but now that such drastic measures had been taken, love was the right word to describe what he was feeling. One might-would- even call it an obsession, an infatuation he had with the man.

"Yes," Hannibal replied simply. "And I was worried you were not similarly affected. But now, I am almost sure that you are."

Will at last looked up, bewildered. He searched Hannibal's eyes for some truth.

"What makes you think that?" Will asked, doubtful.

"You forget that I am a psychiatrist, Will." Hannibal pushed off from where he was leaning against the door frame, moved forward to stand behind Will's chair. "I see every movement, every twitch of your body in my direction, every fleeting emotion across your face. You are indecisive, Will. You know what you want. It is not the threat to our friendship you are worried about- we are much too compatible and much too alone to remain friends. It is truly just a matter of pride here. You do not wish to be dominated."

Hannibal grabbed the back of Will's chair, started pulling it out from the table.

"What you do not realize, Will, is that you are too much my equal. I respect you too much."

"You drugged and kidnapped me," Will suddenly but out. "How is that respecting me? How is that not trying to dominate me, to make me powerless in your wake?"

"I was mistaken about what I wanted from you, Will. I can assure you, everything from here on out is of your own choosing. You can get up and leave now, if you want- I will even help you get home. I will also turn myself in, considering how unsavory my actions have been."

It was a bold play on Hannibal's part. He would never have offered such a thing if there was even the slightest chance he would end up in jail, or that he would have to murder Will to keep himself from being found out. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what Will would do. He could smell he arousal up this close. It was pouring off of Will in waves.

Will stood up and turned to face Hannibal, who suddenly wished there was not a chair between them. Will was staring down at his feet, his curls hanging sample in his face, making it impossible for Hannibal to try and interpret his thoughts.

"I think we should go elsewhere," Will said at last.

"Why? What is wrong with my dining area?" Hannibal asked, insulted.

"N-Nothing," Will replied quickly. "It's just... Well..."

He gestured towards the dogs. He did not want them to watch. Hannibal could not help smirking.

"But Will," Hannibal murmured, stepping around the chair. "Do you not understand that I wish to have you for dinner?"

Will had the audacity to look confused. "But I already ate."

Hannibal grabbed Will's face and crushed their lips together, forcing his tongue in the other man's mouth and taking from him bitterly. He felt he had waited, had been patient long enough.

When Will tried to pull away, he instead pulled them both closer to the table. Hannibal pressed against him deliciously, enjoying the curve of Will's body against his own. Will was soft, not toned, but not overweight either. Supple, was more accurate a description. He would have made an excellent meal, had Hannibal intended to use him that way.

Will managed to wedge his arms up between them, and his resistance made Hannibal stop.

"Not in front of the dogs," Will pleaded again.

"Alright," Hannibal conceded. "I will put them in the kitchen."

The things he did for Will astonished Hannibal. He corralled the dogs into the kitchen and threw them some meat, locking the door once they were all distracted and he could escape back to the dining room. Will was standing, awkwardly waiting with his arms in front of him, clearly trying to hide his growing erection.

Hannibal strode back over towards the table, intending to reconvene their previous activities. Then, a thought gave him pause.

They stood in silence for a moment as Hannibal did not make a move.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, self-consciously.

"I think you should lead," the psychiatrist offered.


	8. The Hottest Day Of The Year

**A/N: **I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I know I did. Also, this is the last chapter I am going to post. It's been fun, guys, thanks for the support. I am already planning another story for Hannibal/Will, maybe related to this one. I have a poll up, go check it out, let me know what you think. I love all of you that are seeing this right now! Thank you!

**Disclaimer: I do not own the NBC TV series Hannibal, nor do I own any of the characters.**

Will did not know what to do. Hannibal was putting up a resistance; his hands twitched at his side, and his eyes eagerly roamed Will's body, but he made no move to proceed. He wanted Will to.

Stepping forward hesitantly, Will licked his lips, stared at the doctor's mouth, tried to ignore how horribly awkward he felt. In this situation, it was like he was a virgin all over again- and in some respects, he was.

Hannibal did not appear to be getting annoyed by the wait. He seemed amused more than anything. When Will finally pressed his lips against the other man's softly, he felt the mouth beneath his curve into a grin.

When Will pressed his tongue into the awaiting cavern, Hannibal kissed back, but with none of the vigor of before. He kissed languidly, allowing Will to decide the rhythm of their tongues, giving him free reign of his mouth. He made no move to touch Will; the dark-haired man had to grab the other's hands, move them to his waist. He had to press his body into Hannibal's, wrap his arms around the man's broad shoulders and pull him closer to deepen the kiss. Hannibal merely tilted his head back as Will's tongue forged ever deeper.

Will pushed Hannibal down into the chair they were still standing in front of, at the head of the table. He climbed atop Hannibal's lap, steadied himself against his shoulders, and them grounded down against Hannibal's crotch, trying to elicit a response. Hannibal grunted, watching the movement of Will's hips.

It became unbearable to be wearing so many clothes. He stood up long enough to strip them off, acutely aware of how wild Hannibal's eyes became, how for a moment he looked on the verge of taking control. But then Will climbed back on top, pressed his weeping dick against the nice fabric of Hannibal's expensive, tailored suit.

Will brought his own hand to his mouth, pulled the index and middle fingers in with his tongue, sucked until his cheeks hollowed around them. Hannibal's eyes glazed over, clearly imagining something else between those pink lips.

After the fingers were sufficiently slick, Will twirled his tongue around them teasingly as he pulled them. He pressed his fingers against his asshole, pushed them up into himself, arching into Hannibal as he did so. He finger-fucked himself while Hannibal watched, diligently trying not to touch as Will splayed and unsplayed his fingers inside of himself, and desperately reached up to touch his prostate.

When he felt stretched enough, Will pulled his fingers out and finally undid Hannibal's pants. He whipped the throbbing dick out, kept one hand stroking it as he turned around on Hannibal's lap.

Will guided it into himself, lowering himself on top of it while Hannibal bit down on Will's shoulder from pleasure, and it became increasingly hard to not bend Will over and fuck him into the table. When Hannibal was fully inside of him, Will felt too full, like he was bursting at the seams. Hannibal growled, urging him to move, so Will guided Hannibal's hands to his waist again to steady him, then picked himself up and slammed himself back down on the other man's dick. Will moaned loudly from the sweet mix of pain and pleasure, and Hannibal cried out in surprise.

Will started grinding down on Hannibal's dick, then began pounding himself down on it, with Hannibal's hands guiding him down each time but not forcing him. Once he found the right spot inside himself, he moaned wantonly, and the dogs started howling in the kitchen, and Hannibal couldn't help but to thrust up inside him, hitting it better than Will could by himself.

There was a white hot flash of pleasure as the tight coil in his innards finally released, and he stopped moving, clenching down hard on the base of Hannibal's cock. As he came across the table, the doctor came inside him, filling him with his hot seed.

"Was that good enough for you ?" Will gasped out. He lifted himself off of Hannibal's dick, grimacing at the slipperiness inside him.

Hannibal did not respond. Instead he pushed Will's shoulders forward so he was forced to grab onto the table to hold himself up, while Hannibal spread his ass cheeks apart and watched the cum spill out of him. He did not seem to care that the cum was landing straight into his lap, and he was messing up his own pants.

"Yes," Hannibal replied, as if the words had just reached him. "You fucked yourself as hard as I could ever fuck you. Congratulations."

Will laughed hoarsely, his voice already gone. Hannibal let him go and he stood up, deciding mentally to take another shower.

"I'll join you once I get something to eat," Hannibal said, reading his mind. He whipped the napkin off the table and wiped himself up. "I am famished. You can go to my bedroom, if you would prefer it over the guest room you were using before."

Will gathered up his clothes, using them to conceal himself from Hannibal's still prying eyes, and trudged back upstairs, each step causing pain to shoot up his backside. He knew he would not be sitting down for a while.

The hot water and steam did little to rejuvenate him. He smelled even more like Hannibal after using his soap and shampoo, but he really did not mind. He liked it, really.

Will collapsed onto Hannibal's bed, still wrapped in just a towel. He got back up after several minutes and crawled under the covers, not caring if he was imposing. He did feel bad for leaving Hannibal to deal with the dogs again, but he had exhausted all of his energy. He was still trying to work his way back, after being drugged, twice. He supposed Hannibal could spare some more patience.

He dozed lightly. Will heard the door open some time later, heard Hannibal chuckle as the dogs surged in around him, claws clicking on the hardwood and collars jingling. Thankfully he kept them off the bed, so they would not jostle Will.

Hannibal showered, and then climbed into bed as well, even though it was probably only seven at night. He wrapped his arms around Will, buried his face in his warm neck, and sighed deeply as he breathed him in.


End file.
